


She's Not There

by Yeomanrand



Category: Firefly, Inception (2010), Serenity (2005)
Genre: Crossover, F/F, POV Female Character, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-21
Updated: 2011-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-17 04:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeomanrand/pseuds/Yeomanrand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt:</p><p>Inception/Firefly, Mal/River, She's Not There</p><p>This is the same River as in my Meta(for).</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's Not There

**Author's Note:**

  * For [igrockspock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrockspock/gifts).



> I was going to prompt this on Green Beer and Kisses but I failed.

Time flows around River as though she were the stone; sometimes she knows when she is and sometimes she sees further downstream than she ought and she knows this and she knows it should frighten her but she can’t sort fear from love-hate-anger-joy-happiness-sadness-wonder-loss anymore. The taut tight feeling in her stomach could be any of those things and thus fails to bother her.

And her dreams flow the same way; she knows when her eyes are open that’s real, or what Simon and Mal would call real, anyway and for a moment she misses Book and his metaphor and Wash and his toys but she loses blue misery beneath the crashing wave of all else. Eyes open, _real_ , eyes closed, _not-real_. Dreaming dreamy dreams; daymare or nightmare, and she flies _Serenity_ through all of them. Usually with her eyes open; if she tries with her eyes closed, she upsets Mal.

She upsets the real Mal, bringing out his angry edges and silver-tipped doubts of her and himself and everything around them. The not-real Mal who comes to River when she’s as certain she’s dreaming as she can be is raven-grey sad but amber certain, no room in her heaven-dark eyes for doubt. Her black hair, a soft unruly cloud around a mother’s face, is coarser than River expects when she wraps her fingers in it out of acid-green curiosity, the gesture springing the faintest hint of a grieving smile and a brush of thumb against River’s lower lip in return.

The touch is so real River has to open her eyes, looking for crystal-blue reality to steady her, ears pricked to hear Simon snoring softly in his bed behind her. She curls hard against _Serenity_ ’s wall, craving the thrumming heartbeat of Kaylee’s engines to soothe the crimson ache in her soul, and her fingers toy with the rivets of _Serenity_ ’s skin; the solidity of atoms allowing her to slide eyes closed again.

Not-real Mal is there waiting, in a room River now sees is lushly appointed as Inara’s ever was, or the Tam mansion, and bittersweet with burnt myrrh and rue; a thin negligee and her bare arms a barrier between her body and River’s.

“Succubus,” River says, the same neutral way she’d once defined Mal’s name; Mal tilts her head and considers the accusation.

“Incubus,” she corrects, “at best.”

River frowns, considering how to contradict the impossibilities but Mal steps closer, her hair a dark veil across half her face.

“Or perhaps just a lonely woman, lost in time and place as you are.”

River knows the flooding water rumble shaking the dream is not-real, her mind and nerve-endings accepting the suggestible suggestion with input from Serenity, but she doesn’t really mind; Mal’s hand is flat on River’s cheek, her eyes bleak with mournful desire. River reaches out and plucks at one silk-strong strap.

“You should go,” she says, fingertips tracing down the blood-hot silk to circle one of Mal’s nipples.

“I’m not here,” Mal answers, and crushes River’s mouth with her own.


End file.
